Simulation Program
by anabasis
Summary: Extremely boring oneshot with Turk!Vincent doing his thing in the ShinRa training program. Be warned.


Warnings: This is boring. BORING I tell you. Turk!Vincent doing the training program from DoC. There's also some heavy sarcasm on my part in here that sounds weird amid Vinnie's depressing emo routine.

Disclaimer: Character, situation, and the voice's script belong to Square Enix.

A/N: A friend of mine badgered me into posting it, so I am, but I'm serious, unless you're up for suicide... just leave. The only point of this was to practice narrating/describing scenes… in this case, the tutorial for Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII.

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><p><em>"Verifying data."<em> The soft, muffled click of boots accompanies the artificial voice. A measured stride, steps subconsciously quieted out of habit and, quite often, necessity.

_"Access number GAI012."_ A thin man clad in a dark suit emerges from the automated doors. He is tall and lithe, his looks deceiving for a man of his occupation. Crimson eyes, the left partially obscured by his raven hair, immediately catalog his surroundings with a subtle sense of paranoia. Just watching him gives one the feeling that he does it because it's expected of him, not because he's actually worried about what might come crawling from the shadows. There's a mechanical click behind him as the door closes.

_"Good day, Mr. Valentine."_ This man is not imposing. The small handgun held casually despite his strictly formal wear is even less so, if only because his eyes make one's skin crawl. Red eyes, since day one of a human's life, are associated with _not good_. As he shifts his position, he favors his left and moves his armed hand towards his center. He knows he won't be fighting yet, but he knows the drill. The pattern. He is a cog and the machine and has no qualms with it.

_"ShinRa Manufacturing Tactical Training Facility. Now loading Turk Administrative Research Department simulation program. Session One."_ Mr. Valentine wears a mask of indifference as the computer informs him of his first task. It was a basic task. Motor skills to prove you weren't a vegetable or handicapped (you wouldn't be there if you were, but the President insisted). It also demands he be able to collect items, again just to prove you weren't a complete imbecile. Had he been anyone else, maybe he would have given a snarky comment about the people designing the programs being the imbeciles. Mr. Valentine says nothing.

_"Please be aware that ShinRa Manufacturing is not responsible for any injuries or loss of life caused by the simulation program."_ Loss of life in a simulation speaks volumes about the company this man works for, but it just proves that there must be some use for the imbecile-proofed sessions. After being informed (not for the first time) about the TTT Terminal, for assistance should it be needed, another trivial day kicks off like clockwork.

The man manages to keep a serious face the entire time he's forced to run after a godforsaken, little, red robot. On wheels. All around the room.

Once he's done the session continues with a menial navigation of the hallways of the simulation by way of running at a jog, jumping up small ledges, and climbing- HEAVEN FORBID. A ladder. Following such a challenge, he's then forced to scavenge about for required items. After the ladder one would assume they would go easy on our dear Mr. Valentine, but he is quickly faced with a downward sloping ramp with a small opening. The only reaction he seems to have is a soft sigh at the thought of getting dust all over his suit. Dry cleaning is shockingly expensive, even for-

Suddenly he launches forwards, a humanoid figure quickly being subdued by a flurry of sharp kicks. The robot is downed in seconds as Valentine climbs yet another ladder and enters an access code. After defeating a surprise bot he manages to get blown on his ass (though he saves B.A. points with a well-executed roll) multiple times by yet another small, red robot. A barrage of bots attack him as he nears the next open area, none of them standing long against a series of melee combos and nimble movements. One would think he was dancing rather than fighting, but the quiet efficiency speaks for him as he enters the next room.

_"Congratulations. Session One complete."_ The voice echoes down at him, resonating against the metal walls of the arena-like area. Once again there is a moment of stillness in the man's body as he surveys the new room.

_"Session Two."_ Without preamble he raises the handgun, quickly firing off the rounds and destroying the white crates that are his targets. Even an untrained eye can tell he's in his element with the weapon held assuredly in a cool grip. Following the shattered wooden boxes are eight fighter bots similar to the earlier ones. His accuracy is terrifying, each robot is destroyed by a single shot to the head. Had they been humans, would Mr. Valentine had held back? Shown mercy?

_"Congratulations. Session Two complete."_ He tilts his head slightly over his shoulder as two, massive, metal doors slide closed behind him. The room is cut in half and the red lights over the three rectangular doors before him flicker to a fluorescent blue.

_"Session Three."_ As he moves forward he quickly sheaths his handgun into a holster in the lapel of his suit before he pulls out a long-range rifle. He clicks on a sniper scope and brings it to eye-level. His new enemies, to anyone but him, would be immediately considered a threat. They were far and there were no means to cross the gaps between his section of the room and theirs. A bullet streaks past his ear and he switches the gun's cross-hairs on the source. Another head-shot. The rest of his enemies, as well as more crates, are dispatched in quick succession.

_"Congratulations. Session Three complete."_ Mr. Valentine crosses the small bridges that have moved into place and passes over to the next stage of the program.

_"Session Four."_ Again he switches weapons as the voice drones on from unseen speakers, exchanging his rifle for a machine gun. There's a slight downturn of pale lips, as if the cumbersome machine isn't quite his style. There is no choice, however. One doesn't forget the initial warning that the automated voice gave before. He had yet to prove he wasn't an imbecile. He was still a target.

This time he keeps the gun lower, bracing it at his side as he's attacked by groups of robots. The simulation's bots storm him from different directions, dropping materia that will be, without a doubt, used soon enough. With the powerful, rapid-fire of the Griffon he silences his adversaries.

_"Congratulations. Session Four complete."_ Instead of saying 'congrats, you didn't die yet,' you would think be now they would have the decency to apologize for sprained ankles, singed clothes, and bullet holes in your chest. Perhaps that asks to much of ShinRa Manufacturing? The machine doesn't give you much reason to think they care, but they do. Bloodstains are difficult to get rid of.

_"Session Five."_ After being instructed to equip the materia he has collected, he annihilates the two attacking groups with fire and blizzard. It's over quick.

_"Congratulations. Session Five complete. Session Six."_ The temperature in the air spikes, power rises and creates a visible ring and furious swirls of fire red around the man's body. It courses around him as he closes his eyes in concentration. The red swirls hover over his suit, over his skin before they fade away. The change is instantly visible as he dashes forward, the heavy machine gun raised and blazing. His enemies fall faster than before, Mr. Valentine's entire demeanor changes as the lethargic, apathetic expression is replaced by a determined set of his jaw and narrowing of eyes. His 'limit break' has kicked in and gives him a massive boost in speed and, by extension, lethality. There is no chance for those he is pitted against this time, just as those before them.

_"Congratulations. Session Six complete. Proceed through the door and take the stairs to the top floor."_ He snatches up a card-key from the floor and strides forward, sliding it over the monitor. The gate fades away and allows him to continue onwards.

_"Session Seven."_ The voice lists off the newest weapon, his task, and how to operate the large turret. He, as the times before, ignores the voice and goes about learned motions. He had done this all before, evident in the comfortable way he mounts the turret and sets his sights on the room below. The lack of maneuverability, like with the machine gun, seems to set him slightly on edge as his back and shoulders tense slight, but there is no other reaction to the latest session.

As the robots swarm into the room he'd been in previously it's more a slaughter than a fight. Still energized by the limit break they are nothing more than tattered uniforms and various mechanical bits and pieces.

_"Congratulations. Session Seven complete."_ Mr. Valentine rises calmly and heads for the door he'd passed to get to the balcony where the turret had been placed, the red pulses fading away slightly as his limit-break begins to taper off. With the program complete he enters one of the many codes he has been taught, but he's soon cut off once more by the voice. _"Warning! Warning! System failure imminent."_ The unexpected announcement, however, seems to irritate the previously stoic man. Creatures of habit do not tend to welcome change. Change means danger, but he's being paid to **be** the danger. He has no choice.

There is the echoing sound of bullets as he descends the stairs, the clatter of boots on the metal floors and the soft whirring of mini-bots. Eight of the small, red contraptions buzz about the floor erratically as others in similar dress attempt to eliminate the perceived threat. The bots were not designed for combat, but for observation and guidance. Being in the middle of constant fighting, they had been built to withstand damage should they get in the way of a fight on accident. Now that their programming had malfunctioned, setting them loose, that design became problematic. The bullets do little damage, but he quickly switches strategies. The Lightning materia from earlier short-circuits them and effectively shuts them down. The others peer at him for a moment, before the voice returns.

_"Systems back online."_ They disappear, seeming instantly, leaving the dark-haired man alone in the arena. The tense lines of his body fade as the over-drive's last tendrils drift away from him and he assumes the slower, more relaxed gait he had at the beginning of the trials. Once again he enters the code and this time the doors slide open without a problem. The console beside the door lights up, his times and statistics are listed as well as an overall score. A slightly annoyed sigh passes almost unnoticed at the 'A' he receives for 'Time.' No doubt, not the 'S' he was expecting. Damnable, **imbecile** mini-bots.

_"This concludes the Turks Administrative Research Department simulation program. You may return to your station."_

_"ShinRa Manufacturing salutes you on a job well done."_ Mr. Valentine gives a slight shake of his head, a small smirk, and he tucks away his weapon before passing the threshold of the door with a confident pace. He is engulfed by the shadows as he disappears through the doorway, the metal sliding shut once he is past with a quiet _snick_.


End file.
